


Following Daddy’s Orders

by Omera_the_Magical_Jester



Category: Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Comrades, Crack, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, M/M, Mao is a Stalin fanboy, Pining, Stalin’s big di
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omera_the_Magical_Jester/pseuds/Omera_the_Magical_Jester
Summary: Mao had adored Stalin from afar as long as he had been a part of the CCP. Stalin could never notice him, though... right?
Relationships: Joseph Stalin/Mao Zedong
Kudos: 5





	Following Daddy’s Orders

**Author's Note:**

> I was challenged.

Mao Tse-tung had a dream: to become a powerful, feared, and venerated dictator, just like his idol, the handsome Joseph Stalin.

Stalin, the great and charismatic man behind the Soviet Union. “He would never notice a fanboy like me,” Mao thought to himself while looking in his mirror. Unlike Stalin, Mao had no glorious mustache, nor did his eyes twinkle when he talked about the greatness China could achieve. He heaved a heavy sigh. It was like it was just yesterday when Mao first met the ruler. 

It had been a day like no other in China. Mao was a bright and upcoming revolutionary in the Communist Party of China. He was sitting in the back of the meeting hall by himself, everyone always avoided him because his ideas were just so new and different from the usual Marxist ideologies. Mao knew that one day he would get everyone to see just how useful he could be!

Then,  _ he _ walked into the room. The man was larger than life itself despite standing at only 5’8”, and his mustache was even glossier in person, reflecting the hope and glee in the faces of all his comrades. Everyone stood to attention, he may not be in charge of the CCP, but he was a big factor in their existence. Mao had to clench his fists to stop from trembling, he was  _ way _ hotter in person. Stalin cleared his throat and the whole world seemed to stand still. 

“How are things in here?” his voice was reminiscent of the harsh cold of his nation. The question echoed about the room, some of the higher ups began to sweat. Mao desired to be as world-shaking as Stalin.

“Th-Things are doing well, Chairman Stalin!” Chen Duxiu gave the man a short bow.

“Then why am I hearing things are not well with the Kuomintang, Duxiu?” Stalin’s earthen eyes squinted.

“Chiang Kai-shek has been on our asses ever since Sun Yat-sen keeled over,” he muttered angrily. Sun had been a good comrade to them all, but his successor wanted nothing to do with communism. As far as they were all concerned, the man was going to destroy China!

Stalin stroked his mustache and harrumphed. Mao felt a chill run up his spine. “Have you been building up the proletariat like Marx would want? The working class are the most important! Control them, support them! They are the foundation for our nations!”

“With all due respect sir,” Duxiu spoke up meekly, “Our people are weak from Japan’s ever present forces and Chiang’s relentless attacks. The proletariat is suffering and we are unable to assist currently.”

“What do you mean ‘unable’?!” Stalin shouted and everyone in the room flinched. “Ask for assistance! We are comrades, are we not?! Someone must come up with a solution right now or all will be lost!” 

While everyone was stunned into silence, one man stepped forward. Mao boldly said, “The peasants.”

Stalin turned to him and it took every nerve in Mao’s body to stand his ground and to keep his heart from somersaulting out of his chest. “What did you just say?”

“The peasants. Down in Hunan they are in unrest because of the failures of their leaders. We should move to them and have them take up arms for a better future!”

Stalin swiftly crossed the room and got into Mao’s face. He smelled of tobacco and pine and his breath was hot on Mao’s face. “The peasants? They are below even the long-suffering working class! This is not the Marxist way…” he looked to Mao’s pin, “Mao Tse-Tung.”

Mao gulped hard but stood his ground. “If we cannot rally the proletariat, we must turn to the next best thing. The peasants will be willing to fill those shoes.”

Stalin finally pulled back and Mao found himself wishing he would stay. “You are gutsy, kid. You like different, I like your confidence. Very well. Someone should go investigate these peasants in Hunan, and quickly. We must be swift if we are to beat the Kuomintang.”

Stalin left in a huff, but not without sparing Mao a lingering glance. 

Since that day, Mao had risen through the ranks of the CCP and became rather well-known. Whenever Stalin himself was able to visit them in China, he would always give Mao looks that burned hot into his skin. When he passed by Mao, Stalin would gently nudge him or brush his hand against his. Mao constantly thought to himself, “Was I imagining things? Could Chairman Stalin really be interested in me? Impossible!” 

Soon, Mao became the Chairman of his own party and took over China after World War II. Stalin was a great help in their battle against Japan, he visited whenever he could despite already fighting multiple fronts back at home. When he came to check on Mao and his communist regime today, however, something was different.

The USSR leader entered Mao’s office with an expression Mao couldn’t read. “Mao,” he gave him a half-smile, “we need to talk. Alone.” They glanced at Mao’s guards.

“Of course, Chairman Stalin-”

“Just Joseph is fine, my boy. We are comrades!” 

“Sure thing… Joseph,” Mao fought the red on the tips of his ears. It felt both exhilarating and scandalous to be so informal with his idol. He had even begun to see Stalin as a mentor figure, they were growing quite close over these years.

Mao led Stalin out of his office and they went to his bedroom where they would have complete privacy. “What did you need to speak about?”

Stalin fiddled with his hat and mumbled to himself for a second before looking up into Mao’s eyes with the same seriousness as their first meeting. “Mao. You have become someone quite close to me. I am constantly amazed at your growth as a leader, and flattered by how you mimic my programs here in China.”

The chairman looked to his feet and blushed. “Thank you, Joseph. It means a lot to me that you notice these things.” In reality, Mao was trying to catch more of Stalin’s attention with these programs. The Great Leap Forward is a massive flop so far, which is why Mao thought Stalin was here. It seemed that Stalin had other ideas in mind.

“I know that you look up to me Mao,” he looked off to the side, “and I have a compassion for you as my pupil.” Mao tried desperately to not stare at Stalin’s pecs as he spoke. With every breath, he was more and more aware of how strong the other man was.

“I am here to teach you more personally. I will be staying here with you for three days, Mao. Three days only to teach you how to be a better leader.”

Mao nodded, “I am very grateful-”

Suddenly, Stalin grabbed him by the face and pinned Mao against his bedroom door. The familiar scent wafting back up to him and the roughness of Stalin’s hands were creating a feeling pooling low in Mao’s gut. A heat only present late nights imagining those dark eyes and strong figure. “I will teach you how to follow in your Daddy’s footsteps,” Stalin growled into Mao’s ear. The taller man shuddered and murmured, “Yes, please.”

Stalin pressed his knee up against Mao’s hard-on and forcefully pressed their mouths together. Mao moaned into the kiss as Stalin deepened it, pushing his tongue into Mao’s mouth. Stalin tasted of borscht and freedom, and his big arms kept Mao stuck up against the door. The friction from his pants and Stalin’s knee were driving him up the wall, he needed more. Mao’s hands crept up Stalin’s rigid chest, one sliding further and up into his short cropped hair. While their making out grew more and more passionate, Stalin’s knee was replaced with something even thicker and even harder. Mao gasped and Stalin let out a low chuckle. “Do you want this, comrade?” he whispered into Mao’s ear. He whined loudly in response, “Yes, Joseph! Yes I do!”

Stalin tutted, “I believe my name is now Daddy Joseph, little Mao...”

With a big shudder, Mao’s breathing quickened even more. “D-Daddy Joseph! Please give me your cock! Teach me with your body!”

With that, Stalin ceased his torture and commanded Mao to get on his bed. After a moment, Stalin found where Mao kept his lube and threw it on the bed next to him. “Undress yourself, my pupil, and the fun can really start.” 

Mao eagerly stripped himself bare before Stalin. “Yeah,” Stalin groaned quietly, “That’s what I like to see, Mao.” 

Stalin ripped off his shirt and jacket altogether, showing off his raw power to Mao. His hairy, muscular chest heaved with the heavy hotness of the room. The bulge in Stalin’s pants was impossible to ignore now, and as much as Mao wanted to stare at his chest, his eyes were immediately drawn to what he desired most. As Stalin clambered onto the bed, all the while eating Mao up with his eyes, he began to undo his buckle and fly. Soon, Stalin’s large member sprang free, already dripping pre. 

“Here is what you are going to do for Daddy, Mao,” Stalin grasped him by the hair and pulled him up, much to Mao’s enjoyment. “Spread your hole open wide for him and prepare yourself nice and good.”

“Yes, Daddy Joseph,” Mao began to lube up his fingers before slowly circling his entrance, ready to push in. One finger, two fingers, three fingers all for Stalin! Mao moaned and bt his lip to try and stifle the sounds, embarrassed in front of his idol. The man himself was extremely into it, dragging his pre over his shaft as he started to stroke himself to Mao’s thrusting. 

Soon, Stalin had enough of waiting. He gripped Mao’s hair once more and forced him onto his cock. “Here is a little treat for you, you slut,” he growled down at Mao. The chairman greedily took in Stalin’s dick, sucking and licking sloppily. Stalin decided to correct his behavior by thrusting hard into his face. “Like this, Mao!” he shouted between grunts. Each thrust drew Mao further and further in. He wanted more and more of his Daddy Joseph.

Finally, Stalin pulled out of Mao’s mouth, dick now a slobbery mess. “Turn around, little comrade. The fun is now beginning.”

Mao clenched the sheets with anticipation as he felt Stalin line up with his entrance. Then, Stalin thrusted his entire length into Mao in one go, causing the younger to yell out in both pain and ecstasy. His idol’s cock reached deep inside of him and for a singular moment, Mao believed he may have entered a new realm. Once Stalin began to move, Mao ascended. Beefy arms wrapped around his waist and he devolved into a moaning mess under Stalin. “Daddy! Harder!” Mao moaned loudly. 

“My, my, what a whore you are, my little comrade,” Stalin couldn’t even muster a chuckle, he was breathing too hard, thrusting too fast. He himself was getting lost in the pleasures of Mao Tse-tung’s ass.

“Yes! Ahn! I’m your whore, Daddy Joseph! Ahh-what terrible behavior for a p-proud communist leader, d-don’t you think?” Mao managed between his gasps and shudders.

“Ugh, uhnf-I suppose I will have to train this out of you, little comrade,” Stalin grunted.

After what seemed like hours of pure bliss, Mao came with a cry all over his bedsheets as Stalin soon filled his ass with his seed. Stalin pulled out and Mao felt empty, but he was pulled against a sweaty, strong chest by burly arms. He listened to the slowing heartbeat of his idol, mentor, and now lover with immense glee. They laid there together peacefully, while the country was destroying itself in its mission to do just what Stalin had: please Chairman Mao.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for letting this go over 1,000 words.


End file.
